A Starry Night
by theotrophic
Summary: chaos and Shion talk about stars.


Author's Little Something: This is an idea I had rolling around in my head and I had to write t so it would stop rolling and I could think of other things. Like Stranded for instance. If anyone is actually reading it, yes I will update.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Yada yada. Didn't you already know that?

This story takes place in the encephalon during the first game. And since it's about chaos and Shion, it will take place in the forested area that they go through. I am definitely using some creative license. You have been forewarned.

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The stars are beautiful. I stare up at the sky getting lost in its majestic beauty. It is a soothing peaceful night. At least, it is now that I have moved far enough away from Allen's snoring. It is not quiet, not totally. The only sound is the sound of rustling, of rushing water, of moving leaves. There is no wind that I can feel. But, I can hear it. It is what makes that sound or rushing water; it's what rustles the leaves. The wind seems to be tangled in the tree tops. There are no animals of any kind to disturb the night. I am in a clearing and I am lying in on my back letting the cool night air wash over me and surround me with its calming presence. Night is sensual. It heightens your awareness, your feelings, your sensations. I stare up at the sky and I focus on the stars, those beautiful shimmering stars that call out to me.

Something moves within me. It's something I can't quite pin down with words. I feel a joy welling up in my chest. It is intensely happy, almost giddy. It makes me want to laugh. It makes me want to smile. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to get up and dance. And, it makes me want to stay lying here forever. The feeling is giddy, but it is also somber. I feel as if I'm looking on something that I shouldn't. I'm looking at something above my plane of existence and understanding. I'm looking at something sacred. The feeling is one of great satisfaction. I have gorged myself on the beauty and splendor of the violet night. I feel utterly filled to the point of bursting.

I examine the stars closely. I determine in my mind what they are. They are the innocent dreams of children. They are the souls of those who where good and pure. They are angels. I smile to myself at that. Stars are intense light, they burn bright and pure and white in the dark night sky. They are condensed, they are tiny specks. If we saw more than that tiny shaft of light, we would be overwhelmed. They remind us that there is a absolute consistent, brilliant light in he ambiguous night sky that seems to constantly shift and change, one moment black, the next violet, the next indigo, now a mix.

I hear her approach. I know she wait at the edge of the trees, debating on whether she should come out and gaze at the ever changing canvas of the sky. I know she feels like she is intruding and she is. But, I want her to come even as I will her to go away. She can't resist the charm of sultry night. She lies down a foot or so away from me. She never looks at me. Her eyes are drawn immediately upward and there they stay transfixed.

Silence. Neither of us talks. We don't need to. We are on the same wavelength. We both know that to talk would be to destroy something wonderful. Instead, we share the moment. Instead of seeing it, sensing it alone, we do it together. It makes it more absolute. It feels real, tangible and we know that it is. Because it isn't just one of us, it's both. There is a comfort we finding the company of the other.

The quiet won't last forever; it can't. Eventually one of us will have to talk or leave. She talks. I listen. The moment stays the same, and so does the comfort. The boundaries have just shifted.

"You know, chaos, the encephalon is constructed from memory. My memory this time, in this place," Shion almost whispers.

I say nothing. She doesn't want me to. I let her talk. It's a way of coping with these types of situations. You need to come to conclusions about them, or they blow you away.

"Is the encephalon really constructed from my memories? A memory is more than just a fragment of a picture recalled to mind. It is feeling. Does the encephalon simulate sensations? Is the encephalon feeding me feelings that I had, when I was a child, on a calm summer night? Am I making a memory from a memory? Or, am I experiencing an old one?" She says all this quietly, almost dreamily, like she is about to fall asleep.

I listen and silently ponder her questions. The silence spreads over us again. I am about to say something when she continues in her monologue. I look over at her. Her eyes are sparkling and her features are peaceful and soft. She is not the tense and worried Shion that I am used to.

"This isn't a memory, or at least not yet. Everything is so intense and real," Shion states.

I look over at her and I find her looking at me. She has come to her conclusion and she is looking for me to confirm it. I nod slightly. I agree with her. There is no way it is a memory. Even if it had started out as one, it has been twisted and contorted and defined in a way totally different than the original one.

Shion smiles serenely at me. She turns back to the sky with eyes wide with childlike exuberance. "The sky at night, have you ever noticed that it glows?" she asks in an even softer voice. It is a rhetorical question. "I always thought that night was a shroud. It was here to block out the light, the goodness of day. And, the stars were the brightness that would not be over come. The brightness that wouldn't let us be in total darkness. The stars were the assurance that day would return and it was trying its hardest to fight against the dark."

I stare in wonder at the stars now. It is amazing that their beauty can evoke so many different things from so many different people. I think about what she said and I know the next question won't be rhetorical.

"It won't ever be totally veiled, will it? The light will always prevail over the dark, right? It will always come back, won't it chaos?" she asks me all of this with a certain desperation.

I know she is speaking metaphorically of light and dark, I know she is thinking of the current situation, why we are in the encephalon to begin with. Once gain, she has turned to me for confirmation, she looks to me to determine our fate.

I push some bangs out of her eyes and I say with honesty and conviction, "Yes, Shion, there will always be light. There will never be darkness so heavy, so oblique that it can't be penetrated."

Shion seemed pacified, pleased. the calm had returned and she continued to smile at the sky.

Author's Ramblings: You like? You don't like? Tell me either way. I tend to like feedback. Please? Maybe I'll get some sleep now.


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